Calm
by radiosweetheart
Summary: After "Rage" there's "Calm"


**Calm **

His fingers were covered with blood. The pain ran through his hands. But the anger he felt was far more intense than a few cuts and bruisers. Elliot looked at his fists and tried to breathe. The bastard had the nerve to project his worthless, disgusting life unto Elliot. And he'd let him get just enough inside his brain to remind him that it was never that far from the scum he worked to take down to his own life. The case may be out of his hands but the blood drying on his knuckles reminded him he hadn't succeeded early enough. How many girls had died? How much suffering because he hadn't worked hard enough the first chance he had at that piece of garbage? He had enough guilt, for all the work he did he still felt like there was never enough.

"Do you feel better now?" Olivia was standing next to the lockers watching Elliot's tantrum.

"You should be on your way home."

"Well, I'm not. Mind telling me what this is about?"

"Yes."

"There's nothing you could've done. You saved one girl just in time and there's no telling how many more he hadn't even thought of going after." He stared at the floor. Olivia walked toward him and sat down. She put her hand on his shoulder. "Elliot, you've got to stop letting these bastards effect you."

"I told you I didn't want to talk about it."

"Sometimes I forget how childish you can be."

"Leave, Liv."

"Elliot…" 

"What do you want? Do you want me to bare my soul to you? Tell you that I saw too much of myself today? Felt like I was just a step from being a psycho too? Maybe you want me to say that he's not that far off. I am a wild card-I can't be trusted. You should watch out for me-don't know when I might go off the deep end. I wanted to kill him. When he walked into that house, I didn't think 'thank God we have him.' I thought-now I can do what I've wanted to do for so long. Then you fired the first shot. You took that away from me."

"Because you aren't like him. And you know that-you want to destroy evil. He wants to destroy innocence."

"We haven't won yet, Liv. He could still get off-he could do this again."

"We're eyewitnesses. There's no doubt. There's physical proof. You're hurting yourself because of manifested guilt. Beating yourself up out of some twisted concept of what's right and wrong. Guilt you're imaging. Guilt you feel for something you have no control over."

"You deal the way you want. I'll deal how I have to."

"Don't stay here, alone. Come get a cup of coffee."

"Why did you come back?" he looked at her. His blue eyes cut through any façade she might've had. "You said you were going home."

"So did you. Seems like we've both been lying."

They looked at each other. A few moments passed. They said nothing. Just breathing in the stale locker room air­­—trying to decide what to do next. The day had been endless. Maybe it had been two days. They were exhausted. Drained.

Elliot moved his hand. Made a fist, winced at the pain. "I'm not going to play Florence Nightingale for you. Far as I'm concerned you deserve all that pain." Olivia stood up, began to walk away.

"Wait, I'd like that coffee."

"Do you want to clean up first?"

"Soap and water. Does wonders."

He walked off, left Olivia sitting on the bench looking at the floor. She didn't know if she wanted that coffee now. Maybe it would be better to leave; there wouldn't be any hard feelings. She'd talked him down. That was good enough. Maybe the right thing to do was to walk away before things went beyond where she wanted them to go. Did she really want to know what was going on inside his head? Wasn't it much neater to leave things the way they had been for years?

"Come on-let's go."

"Where do you want to go then?"

"Connolly's?"

"For coffee?"

"I don't know about you but the last thing I want is to stay conscious for any longer than is useful. I was thinking beer."

"Agreed."

They walked the few blocks to the pub and sat down in a booth in a corner away from the breeze of the door. A small crowd was gathered and the noise level was pleasant without being overwhelming. The waitress brought them a pint each and they shared a basket of pretzels. "At least we get a healthy meal out of this whole thing," he said.

"You ate," she reminded him.

"I didn't enjoy it. Every bite was worse than the last. Tasted like loss."

"Loss has a lot to do with it doesn't it?"

"You do want me to open up don't you?"

"I don't want anything you're not willing to offer."

"Since Kathy left and took the kids I haven't been able to figure out what I have to offer. Is that the sort of thing you're looking for?"

"Stop interrogating me Elliot. I'm not a perp. I'm your partner."

"I think you're the one doing the interrogating."

She looked at him. Said nothing. She took a drink and picked at the bowl of pretzels. "I'm tired, maybe this isn't the time to go into this."

He stared at the table for a few moments. "For years I knew what I was supposed to do. I was a cop. A detective. And I was good. Every now and then someone would get away from me, but I knew that wasn't the whole truth of what I was. I was a husband and a father. Thought I was good at both. Then Kathy leaves me. The kids aren't around. I'm not wanted as a husband and I'm barely able to be a father. Then something like today happens and I wonder if I ever had it right. Sometimes I think I chose the harder route."

"Which route do you mean? The one where you walk the line? Where you follow the rules and life still kicks you in the ass? What else would you do? It's who you are. None of us are happy and none of us are unscathed in this."

"You're not telling me anything I don't know."

"Then why do I have to say it?"

"Do you want to leave?"

Olivia took a breath. Took a drink. Reached for her purse and checked her phone for the time.

"I asked if you wanted to leave, not if you knew the time."

"What are you asking me, Elliot?"

"Nothing you aren't willing to hear. Nothing more than you're asking me to say."

"Why are you suddenly being obtuse?"

"Because if I said what I was thinking it would go against every established aspect of our relationship. I don't know if you've noticed this, but we tend to leave a lot unsaid."

"I thought that had to do more with time than with traditional communication formats."

"Because we have so few opportunities to speak honestly."

"It would seem that way."

"Maybe we don't take the opportunities we have."

"Do you want me to go home with you?" She asked him this question without hesitation. She knew the answer. She knew he would struggle with a response and then manage for a moment to tune her out. She knew all of the reactions he would have. She'd seen him ignore her questions and walk away many times. This, this was not one of those times. He wouldn't leave this time.

"Yes." He looked at her. Waiting for a flinch, something to indicate that she regretted the question. She didn't blink. He'd spent years studying the actions of the guilty. He knew regret. She didn't show any.

"You know, in the morning nothing that happened tonight will make any difference to our relationship. Tomorrow I'll treat you the same way I did yesterday morning."

"You're hard, Olivia."

"I'm reasonable."

"I appreciate that."

She dropped a 10 on the table and picked up her purse. She began to walk toward the door. He followed her. When they got outside she stopped. The winter wind sliced through her coat and snow threatened. "Where are we going?"

"You live closer."

"A couple blocks."

"I'd prefer it."

"Fine." They hailed a cab and told the driver the address. Neither of them spoke during the ride. The cabby attempted conversation, but quickly grew tired of the effort.

The cab stopped. A few dollars were exchanged. They walked toward her apartment. Olivia unlocked the door and let them in. "You can still leave. "

"I asked you."

"I live here. I think I'll being staying. I don't feel like playing games. We both know what we're doing. So if that's what you intend to do—do it."

"You seem resigned to the whole thing."

"It's not about resignation. I'm not pretending. I know you're angry and that you don't want to spend the night alone. I don't disagree with the sentiment. I also know that there's nothing that any woman could do that would keep you from going back to Kathy and the kids if you were given the option. It's not about emotion any pretense of relationship. It's about need and convenience of fulfillment."

"You're a true romantic," he smirked.

"Life lends itself to romanticism. Don't you think?" She walked toward him. Put her hands on his shoulders, looked in his eyes and turned her head to the side. "Do you want to kiss me?"

"Yes, and I want you to feel something other than convenient when I do it." He took her face in his hands, brushed her hair away from her eyes.

"I'm not worried about it."

"Don't." He kissed her. She wrapped her arms around him, pulled him close to her.

She pulled away-"I meant what I said, at work, none of this ever happened."

"Nothing ever happens after work hours." He unbuttoned her shirt a couple of buttons.

"It's as if we were created for work alone without any consideration of what may happen the other 14 hours a day or on weekends." She slipped her hands under his shirt, scratched her nails along his back.

"At least we have that settled."


End file.
